


Comfort in Ghosts

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Gen, because it was written in 2011, rescued from ye olde livejournal, this fic treats Melchior more kindly than he deserves to be treated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-06
Updated: 2011-01-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 05:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Melchior still sees Wendla and Moritz.





	Comfort in Ghosts

Melchior lay stretched out awake on his bed. It was pitch-black night, but his eyes had adjusted to it enough that he could make out the cracks on the ceiling as he stared up at it. He didn’t have to turn to know that they were with him again.

They always were to some degree, but though Melchior often felt their presence, he seldom saw them. This evening Wendla was sitting at his desk in her grey stockings and white slip, bits of hay in her hair and downcast eyes making her look like a solemn Ophelia. He arms were wrapped around her stomach. 

Moritz was looking out the window, his hair stuck out at odd angles. There was no gun wound through his head this night, and Melchior was thankful. He wondered what, if anything, his old friend saw. 

They always appeared sad on nights like this, and they never told Melchior why. He’d ranted and shouted at them once or twice, demanding answers that they would not or could not give. He did not know if they came because society had destroyed another innocent, or because even in the afterlife they still felt keenly their past wrongs. He’d given up asking. 

“Come here, then,” he whispered, as he had on other such nights. Wendla approached first, and he pulled back the blankets for her, more to welcome her than anything else, for what did bits of cloth matter to non-corporeal things? She curled up besides her and then into him, for that was the only place where he could keep her safe now. 

Moritz lay a hand on Melchior’s temple with a self-possession he had never shown in life, and then he too was gone. 

In every book that Melchior had ever read a ghost’s touch was meant to be cold, but Moritz and Wendla always left him feeling warm, and the only thing that made him shiver was the hungry loneliness in their eyes after they’d been away for too long. 

He knew that whatever he did in his life he did for them, and hoped that one day he could make them smile again.


End file.
